University Applications
by clue1117
Summary: Ashley doesn't want to go to university, and it leads to some mother-daughter bonding.


"Now, I don't want you doing any heavy lifting for the next two weeks, and you are to stay in bed today and tomorrow, yes, you may have your computer, and you are to follow this stretching plan." Helen had had to raise her voice to avoid Henry's interruption, but she knew him well enough to know what he had been about to ask. Grumbling that he wasn't a child anymore he nodded to me as we passed in the door to Mom's lab.

"Mom, what the hell are these?" I ask with an edge to my voice, waving the heavy manila envelopes for emphasis.

Without turning from writing in what is presumably Henry's file she puts an edge in her voice too, one rather more sarcastic than my own. "Good afternoon to you too, Ashley."

"I'm serious!" My voice isn't level anymore. My mom's rational and calm disposition is not something I inherited.

Glancing over her shoulder she spots the heavy bundles of parchment. "Ah, those." I think I catch a hint of wariness in her voice, but, if that is in fact what it was, it is quickly replaced by determination. "University applications."

"What?!" I manage to choke out incredulously.

"University applications" she repeats; then continues to my horror "I believe you are currently holding Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard and Yale." Her voice is still determined.

"What the hell for?!" anger now colors my words along with the incredulity.

"For you to fill out, honey." Now her tone has picked up a patronizing undertone; really not helping her cause.

"And why the bloody hell would I want to do that?!"

"Watch your language Ashley!"

"That's not an answer!" My voice just keeps getting higher. It's _really_ irritating, because Mom's voice is still steady. "And I'm not a child anymore; I'll say whatever the hell I want to say!" I add for good measure.

"I know you aren't a child, Ashley, that's precisely why I got those for you. You need to have some kind of life out side of _this_!" She waved her hand around at the lab for emphasis. "There is too much violence, too much death!" Pausing for breath she continued _slightly_ more calmly. "Much as I abhor it; despite my best efforts to stop it, violence surrounds me and I got you all wraped up in that. I was so afraid of what the world would do to you, so I made this-" again her hand waves at our surroundings, but it's feeble this time (or as feeble as anything Mom does can be) "your world. But it just meant more aggression and fighting and hostility and I am so afraid that is all you know." She was breaking down into sobs; tears poring down her cheeks. I had seen her like this only once, the night John had left the first time, when she thought he was dead, and she had been alone in her room, long after I was supposed to be asleep. It scared me to see her like this. She was my rock. And right then, she was far from being solid.

A sobbed whisper brought me back. "I am so sorry."

I crossed the remaining distance between us to where Mom was, barely, standing, supported only by the examining table. Clamping my arms around her neck and burying my head in her hair, just like when I was little, I stated fiercely and truly "I'm not."

She understood. Mom has always understood that emotions just aren't my thing. They aren't hers either, really. So I continued "And I know love and caring and forgiveness more than anything else. How could I not with you as my mom."

Lifting me, she rested her chin on my head and said simply "Thank you." I didn't have to ask what for; I knew it was all encompassing. She was saying Thank you for the compassion, and thank you for the best years of my life, and thank you for dinner last week.

"I love you" we whispered simultaneously, with precisely the same tone of sincerity. After a few minutes of standing like that she kissed my hair, lowered me to my feet, took my hand and, smiling through the tears said "tea and cookies." Nodding, I felt five years old again. But as we left the lab, headed for the kitchen and our long time _I am so sorry _food, I knew that she would never stop being my mom, never stop understanding.

* * *

AN: When I started this, it was meant to be light and fluffy, only then it went and wrote its self. So I hope you enjoyed non the less.


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